The end

I’m going to write about you now.
because i have to.
Because my feelings are all over the place
And I’m going to settle them here.
I’m wondering if I love you.
Because I’ve never loved anyone before.
Don’t get me wrong.
I’ve been in love.
Hell, I’m 40 years old.
I hope I’ve been in love before.
But since no other love has lasted,
Either I haven’t really been in love
Or I just couldn’t handle it.
I feel a helluva lot of things for you.
I want to be with you all the time.
But your schedule is involved
And the time that we have together
Is measured in glasses of wine
And cigarettes.
I want to stay the night with you
And make love to you,
But there are complications.
And these complications
Are coming to define our relationship.
Don’t get me wrong.
There is no one else I want to be with.
But I’m with myself more than I’m with you.
And I find it hard to fill my time
Without thoughts of you.
So I ask myself, do I love you?
I’d never tell you I love you.
At least not right now.
I think it would be more of a burden
Than a boon
To your life.
I can see myself telling you I love you,
Maybe in a year or two.
But even then, I see the world
Exploding
When I tell you this.
So what am I doing?
Why am I scratching at your door
When I could pull back
And find other doors to pester?
Other doors that will open sooner.
I guess I love you.
And I am waiting to say it
Because i'm worried
that will begin
The end.

Recent History

After I left my Ex,
the woman I dated
for two and a half years,
the woman I was engaged to
for a year,
I dated two women.
One was gorgeous,
beautiful hair,
dark skin and eyes.
We had so much in common.
But we were never comfortable
with the idea of dating
each other.
Our dates
were just encounters.
The other was
beautiful
in the most classic way.
She was fair skinned
with dark hair
and a great smile.
But the connection
Wasn’t there.
We knew each other
years ago
and were both seeking
what we had in the past
We slowly drifted apart.
Alone again
with two more experiences
behind me,
I am wondering
just what it is
I am looking for.

my life

I have secrets.
Things I can’t tell you
or anyone
lest I be judged.
My life has been different
than other lives you know.
I have killed.
and I have been spared.
There is no balance.
Nothing equals loss.
Nothing equals sacrifice.
They happen.
People move on.
There is no balance.
There are things
I would change,
but cannot.
I barely know my life.
How can I know the life
You think you know.

Have I ever been in love?

I wonder.
Christine at ten
Was so beautiful
And eventually,
So distant.
so many wasted tears.
Beatrice at sixteen
Was so beautiful
And eventually,
So different.
So many wasted poems.
Zoe at eighteen
Was so beautiful
And eventually,
So disappointing.
So many wasted moments.
Deb at twenty
Was so beautiful
And eventually,
So hurt.
So many wasted actions.
Karen at twenty four,
Was so beautiful,
And eventually,
So demanding.
So many wasted plans.
Minnie at twenty seven
Was so beautiful
And eventually,
So surprised.
So many wasted feelings.
Stacy at twenty nine,
Was so beautiful,
And eventually,
So erratic.
So many wasted emotions.
Stephanie at thirty two
Was so beautiful,
And eventually,
So decisive.
So many wasted compromises.
Rachel at thirty four
Was so beautiful,
And eventually,
So strange.
So many wasted opportunities.
Jesse at thirty six
Was so beautiful,
And eventually,
So mad.
So many wasted arguments.
Dana at thirty nine
Was so beautiful,
And eventually,
So young.
So many wasted advances.
Have I ever been in love?
No.

A love story?

I woke up one day
Determined
That this was my last day
On earth.
I cleaned my room
And the random rooms
Around the house.
I fed the dog and walked her.
Petting her profusely
And telling her I loved her.
I left for work
And drove the speed limit
All the way there.
I thought about the ways
I could die.
I didn’t have a gun,
But I had a rope
And that seemed sensible.
I entered my building
And walked to the coffee stand.
I ordered a small cup
And heard a noise behind me.
I wasn’t sure at first,
But the second sound was a gunshot.
I turned around and saw a man with a gun.
I thought about the gun I didn’t have
And the rope I did.
This seemed like another option.
I stepped in front of the woman behind me
And was shot in the shoulder.
The pain was magnificent.
It was one step
Toward my last day
On earth.
I pushed her down and ducked my head.
Running forward, left to right,
I reached the gunman
Just as he shot me in the stomach.
My momentum carried me into him
And I smashed his head
Into the marble floor.
I grabbed his gun and threw it
As far as I could.
I collapsed on top of him
As he left this earth.
I felt pain unimaginable
And blessedly slipped into darkness.
They say I died twice.
Once on the marble floor
And once on the operating table.
She was there when I awoke
In the ICU.
She thanked me and I passed
Back into the darkeness.
Every time I woke
She was there.
She looked like an angel
And I thought I had left this earth.
But I kept waking
And she was always there.
She held my hand
And told me I would improve.
I believed her.
When I was conscious
We talked
And I began to love her.
I knew she loved me,
But I wondered if she would
If I hadn’t died twice
To save her.
We talked for hours
But I didn’t improve.
I wanted more time
On this earth
To know her and love her.
But it wasn’t to be.
She held my hand
And told me I would improve,
But I died.

A beautiful thought

There is a single
beautiful thought
in my life.
I have kept this thought,
nurtured it since genesis
and eased it into old age.
I have had this thought
all my life,
but cannot explain it.
I just know that
somewhere,
somehow,
I am loved.

there’s something about Fire

you can build
the most imperfect Fire possible
with paper and kindling and middling
in all the wrong places
and a Fire will strive to be.
it will attack the weakest
of the pieces presented.
burn through paper
and gush forth smoke.
it will search out
every bit of kindling
however poorly placed
and burn.
flames will flicker
and dance
and hold the wind.
ever forgetful of it strength
and size
it will go after
branches and limbs with abandon.
it will appear to slowly burn out
unable to embrace
the totality of its offering.
and when you think it’s done
another flame will appear
and dance and wither
only to be replaced
by another.
in the end,
when no flame will muster,
only the glow of embers remain.
a reminder of a Fire that was,
a Fire that could have been.
there is something about Fire
that reminds me of Love.